Valar Morghulis
by musiclegend01
Summary: Delila Waters always thought herself the typical bastard child. What she wasn't aware of, was that her true birth father was King Robert Baratheon, making her a potential threat to the iron throne. Joffrey tries to stop her, by destroying everything she holds dear. However, it sets in motion an ugly war that none of the Lannister's expected.


"No… it can't be true." Delila subconsciously fought with herself, as her stallion rode against the harsh winter winds of the north. She was headed back to her home… her home that was apparently under siege, orders of the Queen. "The soldiers at Torrhen's Square are strong. They'll fight them off and everyone will be fine." She reassured herself. "Cersei will /not/ win." She argued against the conflicting worries in her head.

She was right to worry, and should have been more fearful in that moment, rather than in denial. Upon her return to the castle she called home, she saw the rising smoke in the grey sky. "No!" She cried out, her heart nearly stopping in her chest as her steed grew closer to the chaos.

Her terrified blue hues were not prepared in the slightest for what they were about to stumble upon. Her whole village had gone up in flames and smoke. The once white snow that she left behind days ago, was now a shade of dark crimson. Bodies rested upon the ground, and she assumed them all to be dead. She also assumed since her castle was a pile of ash that her family was no more, as well.

That pained her the most. She had lost everything right then and there. She wanted to go search the perimeter for any possible survivors, including her family, but before her steed could even step foot on Torrhen's Square's soil, she heard the loud galloping of horses off in the distance. A few men rode together, yelling and pointing at the helpless girl. "There… Over there!" They shouted, their horses now galloping towards her.

"No you fuckin' don't." She cursed with her northern tongue, slapping the reins hard against her white stallion's withers to head further north, away from her home. She looked back at the remains with a sort of despair lingering behind her eyes. She knew this would be the last time she would ever see her home.

"Yah!" She yelled, digging her leather boots into the horse's side to get him to gallop faster. She realized going fast in these winter conditions weren't easy for any steed, let alone her own. Unfortunately, her life depended on it and this steed seemed determined not to fail her.

They rode long and into the night. The men and their horses were beginning to slow, which was a relief, but she had a feeling they weren't going to stop until she was in their grasp. These men weren't just hunting her down because they were loyal to their queen. No. Given their determination they were most likely paid with more gold than they knew what to do with.

This wasn't going to be over unless she dealt with it, head on. With a hesitant tug against her horses reins the steed came to a sudden halt in the slippery snow. Suddenly the other riders were right on her tail, and she could even see smug smiles resting over some of their features as if they thought they had won. They were wrong. Very wrong. Eventually they all circled around her one by one. Black horses stomping in the snow around her as if that would intimidate her. "Delila Snow, you are coming with us, by orders of Queen Cersei." The leader demanded, but of course Delila was not going to yield away her freedom that easily.

In an effortless manner, she leaped of her horse, as if getting ready to surrender, but the moment any of the men walked forward to claim her, is when she instantly reached for the sword resting in her sheath. All six men followed suit shortly after, looking at her as if she were mad for trying to fight her way out of this. "I'm not going anywhere." She admitted, gripping the handle of her sword tightly, as one of them bravely lunged forward to attack.

His blade clashed with her own, the sound of clinking metal nearly deafening her ear drums, as she countered his next move, rather rapidly and with an unexpected force. The man's sword fell from his hand and into the snow, and she took those few crucial moments to run her sword through his chest, until he fell to the ground, blood spurting from his new wound.

Two more came for her, but again she was quick, and nimble like a snake. Eventually there were only two men left, and at this point neither of them seemed eager to take her on anymore. "You can die by my sword or the queen's. Pick your poison." She mocked them, knowing she was winning this fight. Although it wasn't over yet. The leader finally approached and instead of having a sword, he had an axe, something she found rare in soldiers who fought for the south.

He tossed the handle effortlessly in his grip, the unusual blade soaring in the air for a quick few moments, until it came swinging at her. Despite her lunging her head backwards to avoid contact, the blade still managed to slice open the right side of her face, leaving her to whimper if only for a brief millisecond. As she regained her wits about her, her sword once again came flush with the weapon's long wooden handle, in an effort not to get sliced again.

She had to admit he was quite the fighter, and perhaps that was why Cersei elected him the leader on this mission, but fortunately for her, he wasn't 'good' enough. Her sword ran through his stomach, after knocking the axe from his once strong grip. The cut was deep enough that some of his intestines were threatening to poke through, and the once white snow was now painted in his blood.

Finally, there was just one, but he wasn't as brave as his leader. This was evident, as he tried to run back to his horse. Though he too eventually stopped running, as she chucked the axe in his direction, only for it to make a harsh impact against his back. She was the last one standing, though at the cost of her pretty face.

She didn't have time to tend to it now, as she suspected that soon more men were likely to show up. So quickly, she hopped on her horse, and headed as north as she could go. That journey lead her to Castle Black within a few days time. Surprisingly the guards opened the gates, but no one seemed entirely thrilled that she was here. "Where is Jon Snow?" She demanded, knowing full well that this is where he had lived his life the past seven years.

She realized being here was probably not the best idea, but she had no home, and no fellow houses that would allow her refuge, given she was a bastard. This was the only place she could think of that would perhaps shield her if only for a week, so she could give herself time to heal from her fresh battle wounds. She could feel them starting to fester, and she was growing rather ill from it. "Who's askin'?" An older man asked, seeming displeased that a woman had the balls to step foot on their grounds uninvited.

"An old friend from House Tallhart." She admitted, knowing that if she stated her real title they would have probably thrown her out on her arse. "Where is he?" She demanded again, impatiently. "He's in his quarters. I'll go get him." A heavier set young man said, but not before he helped her off her horse. It was evident she was hurt in the way her body moved alone, though she tried to ignore it, until she could finally speak with Jon.


End file.
